


Many Arms

by twoshotrobot



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Humiliation, Other, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25063645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoshotrobot/pseuds/twoshotrobot
Summary: San summons a tentacle monster during a fansign.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	Many Arms

There was nothing amiss about the fan. She was a normal young lady, quite charismatic, though still clearly overwhelmed to have met her idols in that smiley anxiety. As she went down the line she'd even given gifts of plushes and animal ear headbands to pose for photos. Once she sat before San, however, she pulled out a book and set it on the table, nudging it forward.

The thing was a damn near tome. It was leather bound, but worn to all hell. He touched the cover, propping it partially open with his thumb. "Do you want me to sign this?"

She shook her head rapidly. "Open page 256. I want you to read it, please."

San nodded, wearing a smile to match the fan's. He turned to the requested page, overlooked the words before reading aloud. "What language is this?"

"It’s very similar to Latin."

That helped San guide his pronunciation as he read the page, looking up occasionally to see the fan smiling and nodding encouragingly, until he finished the passage. "How was that?"

"That was great!”

San wanted to ask what it meant, but management was already whispering urgently behind him to move things along and the fan took the book back, putting it into her bag and moving onto the next member.

He thought little of it until screams sounded from the middle of the room where wood flooring began bulging, causing some chairs to topple over. The fans spread to either side of the room as the floor bulged to the point that the wood and foundation split, creating a massive crevice in the center. It felt like an earthquake with everyone braced against something solid while the crevice widened.

The real screams started when something poked out of it. It was a translucent, cyan tendril with the thickness of a forearm, rounded at the tip. It pointed around the room until it spotted San. More tendrils braced onto either side of what remained of the flooring around the chasm and it launched itself out. 

The being, if it could even be called that, resembled a massive mop, made up of tendrils of various thicknesses and lengths. He thought it was just the translucence that made it glint under fluorescent lighting, but then he realized the thing was rather oily. 

The monster had no eyes, yet it felt like San was being watched by it. He searched for the fan that had him read from the book, but she was nowhere to be found.

It didn't walk, at least not in the way that San knew walking. It had a smooth, gaitless glide as the tendrils that touched the floor propelled itself toward their table. 

Half the members ranged from paralyzed to lifting their chairs as self defense. A single tendril dared close and was whacked by Jongho wielding a metal chair. The hit was almost completely absorbed, only vibrating in the way as a plucked rubber band would. The tendril continued, undeterred, as if the beast didn't even register that it had been attacked.

San was among one of the paralyzed, faced directly with the tendril extending toward him. It brushed his cheek, every bit as slick as it looked. When multiple bunched tendrils came toward him, his flight response finally kicked in. He got to his feet, ready to break into a sprint, but his ankles were wrapped quickly in its clammy vices. He nearly fell face-first, but a larger tendril kept his body upright by wrapping suddenly around his mid.

Gripped by fear, he still gave distant acknowledgement to the efforts of his group mates and staff. They were trying very hard, fighting the monster with makeshift weapons, pounding on its assumed foundation and pulling on some of the appendages that were hoisting San further and further in the air. To no avail, as San was soon completely out of their reach.

"Call the police," one staffer said to one of his managers. What the hell were the police going to do? San would've laughed if the adrenaline hadn't made it so his fear was forefront.

The thing seemed to have a good grip on him despite it being so oily. They squeezed around him, but not so hard that it constricted him. The tendrils were soft and smooth, but yieldy in a way that reminded him of how cartilage felt beneath skin.

The screaming had mostly died down until a tendril poked at the buttons on his shirt, as if fumbling with how to undo them. And goddamn the fansites, who somehow still had the resolve to hold up their cameras and snap away.

The monster was learning, though. Proficient with the buttons, it undid them one by one. His shirt was pulled off. Then his undershirt, simply by appendages sliding beneath the straps on each of his shoulders and pulling it clean off. Then his shoes, his socks. He hoped the belt would buy him time, and thankfully the staff had started cracking the emergency exits open and began urging the fans out. By the time the thing had his belt figured out, all the fans were gone, leaving just staff and his group mates.

On the ground, both managers were on the phone. One with the police, one taking pictures. San made eye contact with the one taking photos, "Insurance reasons," the manager explained. "Pretty sure this falls under the Act of God clause, so it won't cost the company any money."

Comforting. San would've had a few choice words were it not for a tendril diving into his mouth the moment he opened it to speak. As unpleasant as the feeling of it was, it was unexpectedly sweet, like sugar syrup.

When the beast figured out the contraption known as a zipper, it pulled down his jeans. All that remained were his boxers, and no matter how he tried to tighten his legs to keep them on, they came off with little fight.

Spit built up in his mouth from the sweetness. He swallowed it back as best as he could with his mouth occupied. When he did, he started feeling a little warm. Another swallow to follow it up, and his head went a little hazy. If anything, the saliva buildup only got worse the more he swallowed back, feeling hotter every time he gulped around the thing.

Only when a tentacle had gone for his cock did he realize he was hard, amplified by sensitivity he'd never once experienced. Just the appendage wrapping itself around him a few times earned a throttled exhale around the one in his mouth. It barely even squeezed him, yet it was already the single best handjob he'd ever received, bar none. Even looking at the thing did nothing to dampen how horny he was.

He moaned aloud when it tightened on him, earning every pair of eyes in the room. God, how humiliating. But he swallowed back, and he couldn't help but groan out again in a whimpering, pathetic noise as the thing jacked him off.

Thoughts seemed like echoes, but even he knew where this was going. It felt like an inevitability when one had neared his ass, nestling between his cheeks. Somewhere, deep down, he wanted to fight. Like the echo of thought, however, came the echo of aggression. A weak pull, hopeless to the tugging on his cock that made it feel like all he ever had known, all he knew, and all he ever would know, was pleasure.

It slid in so easily, like there was no resistance. Really, San wasn't entirely sure if he still had enough command on his body to actively push it out. He threw his head back when it delved further, filling him and undulating within him. He made a noise around the appendage that was meant to be a swear, but it was just nonsense between the tendril, the drool and thick feeling of sweet syrup coating his mouth.

He was rendered effectively oblivious to the goings-on down below, ignorant to the defeated panic that settled among his colleague-spectators. He knew well enough that he was being fucked because that was all that seemed to make it through the rest of the haze. His breath stopped short, or maybe his heart, when the dry orgasm came. He heard the noise he made with his own ears, but he was so out of it he couldn't believe he'd sounded it. Heaving, swallowing down more of the syrup, regressed further into a brainless animal seeking release.

Actual ejaculation brought him out of body, where he saw himself as if he were a spectator. Saw his mouth filled, ass filled, a tentacle gripping his cock. Everything fucked into him, and he was a moaning, sweating, shaking mess of a man brought to literal tears as he was overwhelmed by sheer sensation.

Then he snapped back, conscious mind returning to his body. With it, his thoughts, his agency, while the last moments of orgasm ripped through him. The tendrils that pleasured him retracted, and the ones that kept him suspended gently lowered him back onto the table, where staff and members alike had covered him with his clothing and their coats.

San turned his head, a hacking cough to get the syrup out of his throat, rasping for water and was given it immediately by Hongjoong.

Everyone turned to watch the monster leave, gliding back to its crevice and unceremoniously descending into it. The eyes snapped back to San as he sat up, pulling his clothes back on to stunned silence and tentative, loaded stares.

The braver of awkward silences, Mingi, was the first to speak. "Are you alright?"

San didn't know how to answer that. Instead, he laughed, dismissing the question entirely. "No one even make the suggestion that I go to the hospital. I need a drink."

The motion went unchallenged.

**Author's Note:**

> usually my more tasteless ideas don't make it past the first draft so i'll use that point of pride to offset the shame down the line


End file.
